


Lyin' on your chest in my party dress (I'm a fuckin' mess)

by sheswanderlust



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Daniel's sheep are in this, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, mentions of disordered eating, overtraining, yes you read it well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheswanderlust/pseuds/sheswanderlust
Summary: He would have liked to say this was the first time it happened. It was not. He recognised all too well the way his own mind felt imbalanced, as if someone had suddenly taken out a brick from the wall, letting it stand crooked and precarious. The buzz, he knew that too – never letting him be, always dragging him back inside the twists of his brain, one foot in the real world, the other in a dusty crepuscular bubble where his movements were slower and his thoughts dampened.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 28
Kudos: 90





	1. We go fast, we go so fast, we don't move

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back with a new project on this pairing. They are quickly becoming my otp in this fandom, no regrets.  
> This is a multichapter project, I'll probably write three chapters in total but I'm still not sure about it. It is set during this off season, so December 2019/early January 2020. As usual comments are life, so let me know what you think <3 English is not my first language so I'm sorry in advance if there are mistakes.  
> Quick explanation about the title of the fic and the titles of the chapters: they are all lyrics from Lana del Rey's _Love Song_ , which is basically my soundtrack of this pairing.  
> Thank you so much to **honeybutter** , who constantly supports me and doesn't insult me when I throw buckets of angst at her.  
> Oh, you can find me on Tumblr, I am **iammany**. Come and say hi! <3  
>   
>   
> Disclaimer: I don't know anyone and anything, I'm basically Jon Snow (yes this joke is very 2015). Nothing I write is true, this is all fantasy.

It started like a buzz in a corner of his mind, as he drove back from the airport. The road followed the windy profile of the coast, slippery slopes and small bays, sea tinted in a pale blue nuance that belonged only to that postcard-perfect wintery Mediterranean landscape. The engine of his car rumbled in the background, its sound rich and constant, a small twitch when he shifted gear, yet all Charles could hear was a death-like silence. He stopped at the traffic light, his eyes looking at the empty crossroad without seeing it. The playlist kept playing, a melancholic voice singing about _having no other place to go_ , no one in the passenger seat scoffing and changing the song, complaining that _enough with this stuff, Charlie, your music tastes are so depressing_. 

He could still feel the print of Daniel’s fingers on his hoodie, hands sneaking under the coat to find his waist and hug tight. Charles had run a hand through the other driver’s curls, face buried against his shoulder, forcing himself to swallow the lump that suddenly had formed in his throat. The bright neon lights of the airport’s departure area had felt aggressive on them, lightening up such an intimate moment for everyone else to see. He had felt naked. He had hugged Daniel some more and had bitten his lip hard when he had heard that _damn, Peach, I’ll miss you a lot_ , the umpteenth stupid pet name Dan had given him hitting him somewhere between his ribs, almost as painful as the sad vein in Daniel’s voice.

A horn. He snapped back, glancing briefly at the black car in his mirror and then at the green traffic light. He hurried to insert the gear and speeded through the crossroad. He felt a suffocating sense of nausea when the skyscrapers of Monaco started peeking through the twists and turns of the road. The traffic was slow as usual through La Turbie and Charles tightened his grip on the wheel. While he waited, he took his phone and checked Whatsapp. No new messages. He absent-mindedly opened the conversation with Nicolas, reading again the message his manager had sent him that morning.

_Try to really disconnect from racing during the holidays, ok? You’re tired and you deserve some serious rest. Relax, enjoy time with family and friends and we’ll bounce back stronger in January._

Charles closed his eyes for a moment, distinctly feeling a thick knot of anxiety in his throat. In his head he could hear Nicolas’ voice telling him about _the importance of being unfocused from time to time_ and he could see himself nod in understanding, well knowing he wouldn’t be able to put into practice any of this. He liked to always be busy, he needed it. That’s how it had always been.

The traffic disentangled in the long straight of the harbour and Charles nervously drummed on the steering wheel while speeding up.

He didn’t stop at his apartment complex and headed straight for the gym. 

The buzz grew louder as he sat in the locker room, eyes fixed on a blue training bag left on the bench, muscles aching from the two-hour long workout he had just pulled out, head leant against the wall behind him. He could hear the distant sound of weights being dropped in the weight room, mixing with voices of people chatting. He hoped no one would come in. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Sometimes he felt like he never was.

He wondered where Daniel was right now. Probably flying over some unknown landscape, curious eyes darting through the plane window to touch unnamed mountains and undefined seas, bright yellow headphones covering his ears, music blasting out, maybe something he had made Charles listen on a cloudy morning, sheets wrapped loosely around their legs, empty coffee mugs on the nightstand, words tuned down not to interfere with the lyrics.

Charles looked at his watch, the shorter clock hand just having reached past the number six.

Late afternoons always felt sad.

Unless.

Memories from the day before, Daniel’s chest vibrating under Charles’ head as he talked. Hands on his hips and long kisses, his own smile as the Australian laughed.

He stood up, took his training bag and left.

Charles liked lists.

He liked writing all the tasks in his black notebook and then crossing them out once completed, a feeling of satisfaction in the way he would draw a single sharp ink line on the words. He liked having hours days weeks under control, filled with carefully crafted plans. That’s the thing – Charles liked plans. He liked the regular progression in his training routine, he liked to run a mile more and then another one, he liked to calculatingly climb his way towards his goals, all clearly set in his mind. They weren’t simple dreams – they were plans. There was a huge difference.

Charles didn’t like the void.

He didn’t like absence either, but he had had to get used to it. He didn’t like free days, he never did. He didn’t like the way hours would stretch in front of him, nothing to do with them, only time heaving on his shoulders and threatening to let his mind run without restraints. He didn’t like the sight of a blank page, the uncertainty of not having anything to do, he didn’t like the way darkness would paint his apartment walls black, tv switched off and silence thickening around his throat.

The walls of his apartment were black that evening, television muted.

The season had ended few days before, with less commotion than he expected, with the warm lull of praise surrounding him and the acidic taste of disappointment in his mouth. He had cleaned his apartment from top to bottom and had tucked away his suitcases while Daniel sat at his table, booking his trip back home like the majority of the drivers living in Monaco during the season. Charles had forced his mind to ignore the thought, focusing instead on the fingers of the Aussie finding the belt loop of his jeans and dragging him to sit on his lap, laugh loud in his ear.

The muted movie on the tv screen lightened up the room with intermittent flashes. Charles followed the way red and blue shadows would blaze on the walls, only to disappear with the following frame. He took his phone from the coffee table and opened Instagram, starting to slowly scroll through his feed. Pierre with the quad somewhere in the desert, his smile big as he hugged Cate. Kimi on the snow with his family, his usual short captions not dampening in any way the warmth of the picture. Romain skiing with friends in Italy, Lewis taking pics of his dogs. Charles felt loneliness stinging even more. He opened the stories, letting them flow one after the other, blurred happiness on show melting into fashion advertising and picture-perfect landscapes and stupid boomerangs. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise he was looking at himself, in the story of one of the fan accounts he followed. He touched the screen to prevent the image from sliding away and observed his own victorious smile, trophy in his hand, the Italian crowd at his feet. There on the couch, a well-known deep sadness seeping in, he struggled to recognise himself.

He fell asleep sometime around four in the morning, phone still in his hand, the bright colours of other people’s lives lightening up his cheeks.

He would have liked to say this was the first time it happened. It was not. He recognised all too well the way his own mind felt imbalanced, as if someone had suddenly taken out a brick from the wall, letting it stand crooked and precarious. The buzz, he knew that too – never letting him be, always dragging him back inside the twists of his brain, one foot in the real world, the other in a dusty crepuscular bubble where his movements were slower and his thoughts dampened.

It wasn’t the first time, no. It had been a recurrent occasion in the last years: his mind failing him suddenly, letting him drown in the darkest apathy without any apparent reason. It would happen out of the blue, usually in the rare moments of calm his hectic life would allow him. That’s why he had grown to fear those breaks, with the long days at the beach and the lazy afternoons threatening him in a way no busy race week would ever do. He would silently wonder if that was it, if the holidays would eat him alive. Most of the times it wouldn’t happen – sometimes it would, brick taken out, buzz in his ears, thoughts intrusively creeping out of the vault where he would stock them for the rest of the time, busying himself with racing and training and racing again, to suppress his mind into quietness.

His heart would tell him to lay on the couch and wait for those episodes to pass – yet his brain wouldn’t allow him. Even in the damp sadness a part of his mind still fought, like it always did – so he would run faster, train harder, plan better, trying to kill thoughts memories doubts with the ache of burning muscles.

That was his way to cope with it – not a healthy way, Andrea would repeat him, putting ice on his twisted ankle or antiseptic on his wounded hands. Yet it was the only way Charles knew.

Truth is – every single time he wondered how deep he would sink, he wondered if this was the time he wouldn’t fight to the surface.

Truth is – he was scared as hell.

_Dan, 09:24 What are you doing today, babe?_

_Charles, 09:30 Not much, just chilling_

_Dan, 09:31 Missing me?_

_Charles, 09:31 A bit (:_

Charles shoved the phone in the pocket of his camel-coloured coat and hurried towards the entrance of the gym. He greeted the receptionist at the front desk and walked to the locker room, trying to stop his mind from obsessively thinking about the girl’s smile, the weird feeling of being exposed, everyone able to see the wicked mechanisms of his mind. Had she realised he had been at the gym twice every day this week? Had she counted this was his fifth workout and it was only Wednesday morning? Had she seen the dark circles under his eyes, or the way he wouldn’t talk to anyone of the familiar faces working out in the weight room? _Stop it, Charles. People don’t spend their time checking what you do._ He took a deep breath and forced those thoughts away, hands quickly tying up his training shoes.

Winter never seemed to change Monaco a lot. The crowded buildings leaned over the bay unimpressed by the chiller climate, the sun kept on shining up there, its rays reflecting on the calm surface of the sea and against the pristine glass panels of the Yacht Club. The city always seemed to keep going without massive changes, never bothered, never perturbed, never upset. Usually Charles loved the reassuring feeling he got from that steady atmosphere; on days like that, though, he felt unnerved by it.

He ran faster, feet bouncing on the treadmill. For one second he imagined to run ahead into the glass window in front of the treadmill, glass shards accompanying him into the air and falling down onto the road like a crown around his body, finally messing up the insufferably perfect Monegasque landscape. 

He checked the time on the clock and quickly calculated that it was mid-afternoon in Perth. He wondered what Dan was doing. Maybe sleeping to recover from jetlag, more likely hanging out with his group of friends, December sun on his golden skin, Australian wind ruffling his curls. There was a distinct sense of loneliness in his chest at the idea of Daniel being on the other side of the world, and he realised that he hadn’t felt lonely since that night in Vegas. Something had changed, then – or maybe it wasn’t exactly then, it was in the countless messages that followed, in the caring way Dan would touch him, in the way his eyes would make him feel real and present and _there_ for once in his life, in the way he had felt seen for the first time in years, not as a child prodigy, not as a charity case, not as a tragic hero, just as Charles. He felt on his lips the way Daniel would pronounce his name, _C_ too hard and _r_ not rolled enough, and focused on the cars driving along the road outside of the building, eyes blurred by sudden tears. He didn’t dare to explain the way the absence of Daniel made him feel – not even to himself. Especially not to himself. He wouldn’t allow that weakness.

He finished his workout and stepped down from the treadmill, legs tired and stiff. He drank some water while reading through his routine sheet, then grabbed his phone and logged the calories from his run on MyFitnessPal. He opened Whatsapp. One unread message.

_Dan, 09:31: A bit??? You’re mean Charlie boy, I miss you lots! Facetime later?_

He checked the hour. Half past ten. The thought to call his boyfriend felt scary for some reason. He felt anxiety tugging at him and the sense of loneliness getting stronger. Weakness, again. He put his phone on the table, beside his red water bottle and his routine sheet, and moved towards the cable machine.

He could fit in a second workout before lunch.

The stands ran fast in his peripheral vision as he raced through the last straight and crossed the finish line, foot diminishing the pressure on the gas pedal. He eased his grip on the steering wheel, the simulator’s screen showing him the stats from the race he had just ended. Charles felt his eyes burning and closed them, massaging his temples. He opened them again and looked at the clock on the wall. Eleven pm had just passed and he stared at the clock confused for some seconds.

He had sat on the simulator at five in the afternoon.

The previous six hours were a blur of virtual tarmac and well-known turns; he could feel them under his hands, fingers aching from gripping the wheel for so long. He didn’t hold back a grimace, his neck hurting, and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back on the seat. A flash of many other times, Daniel coming up from behind and ruffling his hair, kissing his temple and suggesting that he took a break.

Sometimes he felt like his relationship with Daniel had messed him up even more. He didn’t know how he had lowered his walls so easily with the Aussie – how he had started leaning towards him, melting under his touch, gravitating around him like Daniel was the sun and he was a melancholic cold inhabitable Uranus, spinning too fast on the solar system’s suburbia. There was something scary in this. There was something distinctly _wrong_.

All his life he had shut out everything not related to racing. His laser focus had gotten even stronger in the last years – when life tries to knock you down you react, and fight was the only reaction he knew. So he fought to push the pain away, he fought to clean his life from everything apart his goals, he fought not to feel, not to allow anything that would be a distraction and would ruin the balance he had barely regained. Everyone finds his own way to survive, after all – it was true for life, it was even more true for racing.

Then Daniel had come.

And Charles – Charles had found himself waiting for messages, forcing himself to keep his eyes open at night to continue texting with the other driver. He had felt his lips curving up in a smile as soon as Daniel showed up and had forced himself not to think about those clichéd _butterflies in the stomach_ , even if that was exactly what he felt. His life had started revolving around the hours spent with the Aussie, around his laugh, around the way his eyes would shine with affection when he looked at him – _him_ , not anyone else. He had felt special, in a completely different way from how he had always felt when it came to racing – he had felt invincible, he had felt strong, he had felt _good_.

And then he had felt scared. What do you do when you realise you’ve being relying on someone else, exactly what you’ve been terrified to do all your life?

He looked at his phone, on the couch some meters away from him. It would have been so easy to get up and call Daniel – tell him about how he had been feeling, telling him about the bad days, telling him about the terror of loving him and about the terror of losing him, and about how everything got harder when he was not there. It would have been so easy to just give in and rely on someone, accept to love someone, and dare to hope it would end well. It would be so easy.

And yet.

He took a shaky breath and selected a new track on the simulator.

Lights out and away we go.

_Dan, 13:26 God, I think my mother is trying to kill me, seriously she’s been cooking for a whole rugby team since I came home. What did you have for lunch?_

The red fruits energy bar tasted like cardboard on his tongue. He absent-mindedly played with the wrapping and scanned the barcode to log the calories on the app.

_Charles, 13:27 Salmon and a salad. Your mum sounds lovely_

_Dan, 13:28 She is, but STILL._

_Dan, 13:29 Babe, are you ok? You seem a bit down lately ):_

Charles took a deep breath and switched to Instagram before answering. He scrolled for a minute through the pics of happy people doing happy things with happy families, then got back to Whatsapp.

_Charles, 13:32 I’m fine, don’t worry <3 I just miss you <3_

He got up and into the gym again.

The house was warm on Christmas Eve. Familiar steps tapped on the elegant wooden floor; the tall tree was reflected on the window, mirroring itself against the dark Monegasque evening outside; well-known voices tangled up in light chatting, a quiet background sound while Charles piled up some dishes on the kitchen counter, yet he couldn’t _feel_ warmth, as if an invisible protective film covered his skin.

«Are you ok?»

He didn’t need to turn around – Lorenzo came beside him, putting some glasses on the counter, his movements calm and precise as always. 

«I’m fine»

He knew his brother wasn’t going to let the matter be. He had never let anything be when it came to him, responsible, caring and protective as ever. 

«You didn’t eat much at dinner»

«I have a regimen» he answered instinctively, as if Lorenzo could be fooled like that, as if he didn’t know the typical diet of a racing driver, as if he didn’t know _him_ «… and I wasn’t very hungry anyway» he added.

A noncommittal _mmh_ was the only reaction he got. He could feel his brother’s stare on him. When Lorenzo talked again he was dead serious, tone making clear that he was just going to ignore Charles’ clumsy attempts at keeping him out.

«You lost weight and you’ve barely spoken all evening. Mum noticed too. She’s worried»

Charles didn’t move, like a deer in the headlights. Lorenzo knew – he was there during his worst moments, collecting him from the floor countless times and then accepting the invisible wall Charles built around himself when things got bad again, when five became four and family pictures became painful to watch. He felt shame at showing him how bad he was – felt ashamed in knowing that they had all went through the same, yet he was the one still struggling to find a healthy way to cope with it. The guilt of knowing that _mum noticed too, she’s worried_ made him hurt even more.

«Charlot»

Lorenzo’s hand on his wrist, tone reassuring. He felt tears in his eyes.

«I’m fine, Lo. Really. Don’t worry, ok?»

He stormed out of the kitchen and back to the living room before his brother could answer.

Midnight bells were ringing when he came home, still feeling the weight of Arthur’s and his mother’s and his uncle’s worried stares on him and the imprint of Lorenzo’s soft fingers around his wrist. He closed the door behind him. The apartment was silent and dark.

He felt the sudden urge to curl up on the couch and cry. 

Instead, he shook the thought away and sat on the simulator.

When everything started to move around him, a couple of days later, he was grateful no one was there, the locker room deserted at half past ten in the evening. His vision was filled by black dots, the white walls of the shower suddenly out of focus. The hot water kept falling on him while he weakly slipped down against the wall to sit on the ground, eyes closed and head between hands, waiting for the sudden dizziness to pass.

The sound of the shower felt too loud and at the same time too far away and hollow in his ears. He stayed like that for long minutes, waiting for the world to become steady again. Slowly he started feeling his body again – the aching muscles from the heavy workout, the too-tense shoulders, his mouth dry, his mind still foggy.

He opened his eyes. Everything was on focus again. He let his head rest against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm down. He did a recap of his meals for the day and quickly realised the cause of his dizziness. A smoothie in the morning and an energy bar, the staple of his diet lately.

_You idiot, Charles._

There was a defeated tone in his usually self-critical strong-willed stubbornly-driven inner voice. _That’s when it gets bad_ , he thought.

He was surprised at how little he cared.

The television was muted again, colours painting the ceiling of the living room for the time of a frame, then changing and creating fleeing pictures in the dark.

Charles felt like he had been laying on the couch and staring at the void for a whole day. It was probably so.

The light on his phone reminded him all the messages and calls he was ignoring.

He could imagine the content. He could see in front of his eyes the questions, the reassurances, the worry, the insistence.

He thought about Philippe. He was probably the only person who had never asked him to explain and never promised him that it would get better. Every time Charles would end up knocking on that well-known door he would sit there through his silences and then hug him like countless times before.

It was the best reassurance Charles had ever received.

He thought about calling him – then changed his mind. He didn’t want even Philippe to worry about him. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him.

And at the same time he wanted everyone to worry – he wanted everyone to bang on his door and help.

He took the phone from the coffee table and unlocked the screen. Twenty-six missed calls, seventeen of which from Daniel.

He opened Whatsapp and read the worried messages from his family. He opened the chat with Pierre and went through the countless texts, the same discourse split in ten different messages as the Frenchman would always do; he smiled faintly at the offer to leave everything and come down to Monaco, _really Charlot, tell me what’s happening and I’ll be there asap_. Andrea’s messages were in a different language but on the same line, _I’m getting seriously worried, please answer to the phone_ and _at least answer to Dan, Charles, talk to him, please_. He opened the conversation with Daniel; before he could read the messages, his eyes were caught by the _online_ just under his boyfriend’s name. He stayed still as if Daniel could see him and distinctly felt that they were both looking at those six letters in that precise moment.

The call from the Aussie came immediately.

Charles stared at the name on the screen, lighting up the dark living room.

He pressed the green icon.

«Charles, oh my god finally, you scared the shit out of me»

The thick accent, the worried voice. Charles managed to greet him with a shaky _hi_.

«Babe. What’s happening? You didn’t answer to me or to anyone for more than one day. Are you ok?»

Suddenly Daniel felt so close, almost too close, and talking became so difficult. Those three words kept ringing in his head, _are you ok are you ok are you ok are you ok_.

«I’m fine» his voice broke before the end of the sentence, sobs getting louder and throat closing up, the pain and the sadness of the last days collapsing on him. It physically hurt, like someone was trying to crush him.

Yet he held up to Daniel’s voice like a lifeline. A voice in his mind reminded him of how weak he was, breaking down _again_ , opening up _again_.

He was too tired to listen to it anyway.


	2. Grab my waist, don't waste any part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here I am, _finally_ updating the fic. I'm sorry for the long wait but this chapter was incredibly difficult to write; I'm still not very confident about it, but well, there's a limit to overthinking too. I've also realised this fic is probably gonna have more than three chapters as I had previously stated, because I write too much (wasn't it clear from the length of my chapters?).  
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented the first chapter, I hope you'll like this one too!  
> As usual you can find me on Tumblr, I am **iammany**. <3

The cabin was quiet, lights down, the regular rumble of the aircraft muffling the voices of the flight attendants and the distant sound of too-loud music coming from someone’s headphones.

Outside the world was dark, night sky and deep sea dissolving into each other, no clear horizon keeping them separate.

The music had stopped on Daniel’s phone, the last song of the playlist reaching its final seconds without him realising it, too lost in his hectic thoughts. He had tried to read some dull articles on the airline magazine, ending up flicking through perfumes’ advertisements, his eyes scanning the pages without any interest. He had then opted to focus on the landscape outside, on the open sea and the lands the plane was flying over. It had lasted for a short time, his mind inevitably drifting away, the left foot nervously tapping and his fingers tormenting the hem of his hoodie. Music had been his last hope – and there he was, yellow headphones covering his ears, so unfocused that he hadn’t even realised he was only listening to silence.

He unplugged the headphones and tucked them away in his backpack, then leant his head against the seat. The Indian ocean was black under the plane and Daniel concluded that there was no point in trying to distract his thoughts anymore. 

He could still feel Charles’ sobs reverberating through his own heart, along with the broken sentences and repeated apologies and long tired silences. They had stayed on the phone for almost two hours, at the end of which Daniel had immediately booked a flight for Nice, his heart not giving sign of slowing down, a mad fear deflating his lungs.

He had called Andrea, with whom he had been in contact since that afternoon, both of them worried about Charles’ weird behaviour in the last days and about how he had suddenly stopped answering to the phone. They hadn’t talked long, but from the trainer’s sigh Daniel had understood that it wasn’t the first time this happened. 

It had managed to worry him even more.

_Charles is complicated._

He remembered when Andrea had told him so, an undefined day on an undefined track, his relationship with Charles still at the start. It had been a warning/confession/threat, the trainer continuing with a serious _really Daniel, don’t mess him up ok?_. Daniel hadn’t fully understood what he meant, but still had felt the importance of those words. Months had passed and in that moment, he realised he was starting to understand.

He had packed in a hurry, throwing the essentials in his carry-on luggage, discarding the summer clothes he had almost got used to wear in Perth and opting for the warmer part of his closet.

December had different meanings on opposite sides of the world.

His hands had met the soft fabric of Charles’ favourite hoodie, the one the younger driver was fond of stealing every time he would sleep at Dan’s. He had stopped for a second, then had picked the hoodie from the shelf and had tucked it into the suitcase. He had struggled to give an explanation to his parents – truth was he didn’t know what was happening, he just knew Charles wasn’t ok.

There was a touch of unreality in that thought and in the power it had on him. He felt like his whole world had been turned upside down by the young man breaking down thousands of kilometres away from him.

He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He was scared as hell.

There was always a sad veil on Charles’ eyes, becoming more evident when the Monegasque didn’t know he was being watched, in-between interviews or when he would lose himself looking at the sea from his apartment’s balcony. Daniel then would say something and Charles would come to life again, turning to face him, his irises bright like the red he wore on his sleeve. The veil would never disappear completely, though, and Daniel had never asked – there was no need.

With the passing of months, autumn chasing them through time zones and tarmac tracks, Daniel had sensed his tension, the bad nights, the unsaid words, and had tried to patch him up as he could, long hugs and distracting walks and stupid jokes.

Still, this was something else. He had not expected to find him so broken as he had heard him the night before on the phone. Listening to his heavy silences, he had realised for the first time that life had cut Charles deeper than he thought.

The departure area looked the same at every airport in the world. The colourful and sterile duty-free shops, merch on the shelves ready to be bought in an unnecessary impulse; the row of seats populated by bored travellers with their boarding pass in one hand, high glass windows overlooking the runway.

Daniel usually found layovers boring; every time he would roam in and out of the shops, hoping that something would catch his attention and make those useless hours pass quicker. This time, though, stranded in Dubai for two hours before the second part of his trip, the wait felt almost intolerable. After checking the gate for the flight to Nice, he switched off the flight mode on his phone and found a quiet place to sit down. His right leg bounced with anxiety while he waited for the flux of delayed notifications.

He ignored the mentions on Instagram and quickly opened the conversation with Charles on Whatsapp. He read the message the Monegasque driver had sent him a couple of hours before.

_I’m so sorry. Didn’t want to make you worry. I miss you._

Daniel felt his stomach clench. Of course Charles would feel guilty for his own pain. He stood up and immediately rang him, an obsessive _pick up the phone pick up the phone pick up the phone_ in his mind, no idea about how he could ever try to stay calm if Charles didn’t answer. He walked up and down, reaching the restroom and getting in. 

He hadn’t told Charles he was coming back to Europe; he knew him far too well not to know that it would have messed him up even more, making him feel more guilty than he already felt. For interrupting Dan’s holidays, for worrying him. _For being human_ , Dan would have said, but it wasn’t the moment for that talk yet. The only one who knew about his trip was Andrea; when they had talked the night before the trainer was ready to leave for Monaco immediately, and Daniel had needed long minutes to convince him to let him try and deal with the situation. 

He realised he had stopped breathing only when Charles picked up, his voice a bit livelier than the night before.

Daniel exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.

«Charlie, hi. I just read your message»

«Yeah, sorry about that. I mean, about everything, I jus-»

«Charles. Nothing to be sorry about.»

He heard him shut up and take a deep breath. He could almost see him: eyes closed, teeth torturing the lower lip, one fist clenching, trying to regain composure and stop apologising.

_Nothing to be sorry about._

He wondered if he had been drinking a cup of coffee before answering the phone, fingers curled around his favourite mug, the winter sun reflecting in his eyes and making them liquid, television switched on as a background noise. Or maybe he was on the balcony, scarf around his neck, elbows on the rail, eyes lost somewhere along the coastline, a king-to-be admiring his future kingdom.

Fuck, how much he missed him. 

«How are you doing today?» Daniel asked, to distract Charles’ thoughts.

«A bit better, I think» he answered, clearing his throat before continuing. «Lolo is coming, he should be here soon»

Daniel felt relieved knowing that he wasn’t going to be alone for the whole day. Just as he was about to speak again, he heard the distant sound of the doorbell.

«Oh, he’s here»

«We’ll talk later then, don’t worry» he stopped for a second, then «Charles?»

«Yeah?»

«I miss you too»

When the call ended, Daniel was left alone in the minimalist bathroom of the airport, just him and an acidic sense of guilt for not telling Charles about his trip. He looked at his reflection in the mirror: white tiles behind him, dark circles under his eyes, hair ruffled from the flight. _You look like shit, man_ , he told himself.

He thought about the hurried goodbyes with his family, about the messages exchanged with Pierre and Lorenzo, about the worried voice of Andrea; he thought about the ridiculously sweet present in his backpack, bought in Perth while he waited for the flight. He thought about the weird, unexplainable way in which he had started to find peace in the troubled eyes of a too-beautiful boy, and about the tangle of wires connecting them and pulling them finally together on a drunk night in Vegas.

He thought about Michael asking him if he was sure about going, if it wasn’t better to leave Charles’ family take care of the situation.

Somehow, since Vegas any objection had stopped matter to him.

He put the phone in his pocket and got out of the restroom, the door slowly closing behind him.

The French Riviera was a glittery crescent outside the taxi window, the coast dotted by boats and rolling up to embrace the sea.

Despite having moved there years before, Daniel had never learnt to call those shores _home_.

He still felt a partial stranger, language running too fast on the tongue of the locals for him to catch up, effortless elegance ingrained in habits he didn’t fully understand, roads leading to villages he had never seen, the sea itself so different from the one he was used to.

Yet there was something pulsing in his throat as the taxi followed the profile of the coast and turned to submerge itself among the buildings of Monaco, the city silent in the dark. For the first time, Daniel felt welcomed by the confident and careless beauty of the riviera, felt a quiet moment of peace as his eyes travelled on the known corners, the ever-present curbs, the boats in the harbour, the muddle of buildings climbing on the steep profile of the coast.

The word _home_ didn’t move past his lips; he kept it on his tongue, savouring it, as something too precious to be shared with the silent taxi driver.

He climbed out of the car and greeted the man in his awkward French. The taxi drove away, leaving him alone on the road, just outside Charles’ apartment complex, at eleven pm of the longest day of his life. 

He entered the building hall before his body could feel the exhaustion.

The lift going up to the fifth floor seemed to take more than usual. Out of context, Daniel thought about another lift, on an early morning in Vegas, him and Charles inside, intoxicated and aching to touch each other. He remembered how he had looked into the younger man’s eyes and had felt on the verge of something he still couldn’t name.

In a way, he felt the same in that moment.

The lift reached the fifth floor and the metallic doors opened swiftly. The noise of his suitcase wheels on the floor seemed so loud in the silence.

Daniel stopped in front of Charles’ apartment door.

For a terrifying moment he felt an agonising fear in his guts. He killed it by pressing the doorbell.

He heard steps on the other side of the door, and Charles’ voice reaching him even before the sound of the door unlocking.

«Lolo, don’t tell me you forgot your keys here again»

Charles’ words faded into an astonished silence when he opened the door. Daniel took his figure in: the eyes wide open, confusion dissolving into realisation; the way his fingers had tightened on the doorknob; the gaunt look on his face, skin tired and dark circles.

He was just beautiful to him.

In that instant still dividing them, for the first time Daniel fully realised that the immensity of their feelings was exactly the kind of love that he had always hoped to find. 

He stepped in and hugged Charles before giving him a chance to speak, hands gripping at every part of him he could find, the urge to keep him as close as possible, crushing kilometres time zones oceans continents between their bodies.

He felt that word on his tongue again. This time he dared to say it.

«I’m home»

Warmth was the only feeling Charles’ brain seemed able to pick up on, in that moment. It was in the way Daniel’s hand curled on his hip and in the fingers caressing his hair, in the soft fabric of his hoodie, in the stubble brushing against his own cheek. Everything felt warm, and Charles felt even colder by contrast, burying his hands in Dan’s shoulder in an attempt to take on the heat.

He let the Aussie take him to the couch without breaking the hug, his mind still struggling to grasp the new information, because Dan was in Perth and he had simply fallen asleep on the couch as soon as Lorenzo had left his house and ended up dreaming about his boyfriend coming and rescuing him, _you stupid needy idiot_. 

Warmth again as he sat on the couch, Daniel’s hands cupping his face and meeting his eyes.

Crispy brown tinged with concern, dark circles on tanned skin, a frown painting his thick eyebrows.

_Dan is here._

It came crashing on him all of a sudden, the mad relief and the guilt for worrying him and the self-loathe because _here you are, you weak boy, you really can’t stand on your legs_.

«I’m sorry»

The words surfaced on his lips without a double-check from his brain.

Dan looked at him confused and opened his mouth to answer, but Charles cut him off «I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have come, I shouldn’t have made you come, I’m so sorry Dan»

Dan shushed him, arms moving to hug him again. «I’m exactly where I should be»

Charles squeezed his eyes closed. Dan’s chest reverberated while he spoke.

It felt so good.

He tried to fight it.

«No, there was no ne-»

«You’re not making me change my mind babe» a soft nuance in his words, a kiss on his head «stop trying».

The hot breath against his ear, the way Dan’s hands caressed his back in slow circles, going up to his tense shoulders. The suitcase forgotten in the entrance, the television chatting in the background, the coat Dan was still wearing, the soft skin of his neck.

Charles felt warmer.

He stopped trying.

He didn’t realise he was crying until the sobs started shaking his body, Dan holding him tighter and whispering words he couldn’t catch.

The wave of sadness grief relief hit him and, for the first time in days, his brain shut up. For long minutes nothing was there, only the faint buzz of the Aussie’s voice, then the silence while he held him.

They stayed like this long after tears had stopped, then Dan spoke. 

«What’s happening, Charles?»

Charles distanced himself enough to look into his boyfriend’s eyes, post-tears headache already starting to pound.

He didn’t speak.

He wondered how he could explain the feeling of being a dim light oppressed by asphyxiating darkness.

«I don’t know, I-» he stopped and took a long breath. He settled better on the couch and closed his eyes for a second, trying to suppress his growing headache.

«I don’t deal well with holidays»

Dan’s hand on his back, not moving, not pressing him.

«I don’t like having too much free time» _to think_ , he thought, keeping those words to himself. Daniel seemed to hear them anyway. «It makes me sad. I feel sad all the time» _sad_ was such a poor word to indicate what he felt, the three letters failing to express all that was inside. Hopelessness, desperation, self-loathe, apathy, rage, longing, obsessive thoughts, exhaustion, anxiety, fear, control slipping from his hands and his fingers panicky clasping to keep it. The maddening feeling of being a flame about to die down.

He was too tired for all those words.

«So this is not the first time»

Charles felt like a fraud, an item with flaws Daniel should have been warned about before all of this started. When Charles still hadn’t been an inconvenience for him, when he still could turn away without much of a fuss. He should have told him his mind was a mess. Someone should have told him. 

«No. It happens sometimes. This time was worse, though»

«Why?»

_Because I had gotten used to you and then you weren’t here anymore._

He didn’t dare to say it, not even to himself.

He was selfish. 

He shrugged.

He was ready to hear him angry, ready to lose his warmth. 

Daniel held him closer, and Charles couldn’t understand why. 

«And what do you usually do, when it happens?»

«I wait for it to pass» _and I train myself to exhaustion_.

He felt Daniel nod, tucking him under his chin, fingers following imaginary paths on his left arm. Time passed, Charles absent-mindedly settling into the hug and getting used to the feeling.

_Dan is here._

«You lost weight»

Charles stiffed.

«I’m just training» he replied, hoping the defensive note wasn’t too clear in his tone.

Dan looked at him and Charles knew what he was thinking about. Suzuka, the typhoon raging against the windows of the hotel gym, his endless runs on the treadmill to fill up the hours.

«I’m just training» he repeated.

«Ok» Dan held him closer, lips travelling to his temple, and Charles sensed that the Aussie had understood more than he had intended to give away.

Later, in bed, everything seemed muffled by the plush duvet and the soft pillows. Dan was moving around the room, taking his pyjama out of the small suitcase and getting changed, the sound of his movements like shadows behind Charles’ eyelids. 

Dan’s body close to his, arms finding their usual path and keeping him close.

Warmth again.

This time Charles felt his body becoming warmer too.

His mind was silent.

He fell asleep.

The morning sky was grey outside the window, its reflection creating a deep silver patina on the sea, a few boats already venturing outside the harbour, leaving behind them a faint trace in the water. The cloudy weather was more in tune with Charles’ mood – sun and blue skies felt almost violent on his bad days, happiness shoved in his face while he struggled to untangle himself from the webs inside his head.

He felt sluggish, his body heavy and feather light at the same time. He had spent the previous days in constant fight mode against his own mind – training, locking away the bad thoughts and running faster when they escaped their cage, as he had taught himself to do.

Then Daniel had called him, and he had broken down.

Then Daniel had showed up on his door, and he had broken down again.

He felt defenceless now, not strong enough to keep the dark side from roaming around his head, not strong enough to put up a façade, not strong enough to fight.

He turned around, his eyes following Daniel as he did the dishes. There was a colourful quality that he always brought to Charles’ apartment, a quality hard to grasp but very present at the same time. It was in the way the walls would lit with chatting, the Aussie unable to stay silent for more than two minutes, always talking about something, whistling or singing to some tune Charles didn’t know; in the trail of chaos he would leave behind, a hoodie on the couch, notebooks on the table, unmade bed, an empty mug on the nightstand; in the way he would actually use the kitchen for something more than the short and somehow monotonous string of meals on the regimen notepad Charles had put on the fridge, a little kart-shaped magnet keeping it on place. When Daniel was there, the kitchen always ended up smelling of herbs and vinaigrette and sweet potatoes. It felt like an actual home, more than Charles had managed to make it in the almost two years he had been living there. Dan’s presence felt like the life of a functional human, much different from the insanely driven mess Charles considered himself to be.

The sound of the faucet being turned off, Daniel wiping his hands on a tea towel and then joining him in front of the window. Charles let himself being hugged, hands reaching for Dan’s shoulders as the Aussie left a kiss on his temple. He was always so in tune with his own feelings, showing affection to him constantly, not afraid of being vulnerable, not afraid of demonstrating how much he mattered to him.

Charles felt like a caged supernova.

He wondered if Daniel thought him cold, he wondered if he knew how much he cared about him, if he knew how he had turned his life upside down in an utterly scary way. 

He felt his eyes become watery at the idea of Dan not knowing anything of this. He hugged him tighter, hoping to show what he couldn’t say.

Another kiss on his temple, one hand drawing circles on his back.

«How did it go with Lorenzo yesterday?»

Charles took a few seconds before answering, still lost in the warm feeling of Dan’s skin.

«Fine» he said then, voice tuned down, no intention of moving away from the hug. «We talked a bit – a lot, actually. Then we cooked»

Daniel distanced himself just enough to look him in the eyes with an expression of disbelief.

«You cooked? Like, actual food?»

Charles huffed, a small smile on his lips. «Well, _he_ cooked a risotto. I watched though»

«That’s a substantial contribution»

He punched him lightly in the ribs, the other man easily blocking his fist and hugging him again. Charles closed his eyes, feeling the laughter rumble in Daniel’s chest.

«He loves you a lot, you know it right?» Daniel said after a while.

Charles just nodded. He felt love-resistant sometimes, _knowing_ that he was loved but still failing to feel it. He had tried to voice those feelings to Lorenzo the day before, huddled on the couch under his worried eyes. He didn’t know if he had understood, yet he had felt calmer in his hug.

«Oh, I just remembered» said Daniel all of a sudden, pulling away and looking him in the eyes «I brought you a piece of Australia». He headed for the bedroom and Charles heard him rummaging through his stuff, before coming back with his backpack in one hand and sitting on the couch.

Charles joined him, curious. He noticed the way the Aussie suddenly seemed sheepish and nervous as he took a kangaroo stuffed animal out of his backpack.

«G’day, mate» Daniel said in a mock voice, putting it in Charles’ hands.

Charles stared at kangaroo, shiny plastic eyes looking at him, brown plush fur soft under his touch and a big Australian flag bandana around its neck. He opened his mouth as to say something, but his throat had closed up.

«I know it’s silly, but I was wandering in the airport shops and found it and, well-»

«It’s not silly» Charles managed to say, his eyes not leaving the stuffed animal in his hands.

There was something about it – maybe its intrinsic sweetness, maybe the memory of childhood habits outgrown too quickly, maybe the fact that it wasn’t about racing, it wasn’t about his ambitions his goals his future his path, it was simply about _him_ , and about Dan thinking of _him_. It felt nonsense – and somehow, precisely for this, it made sense.

«I love it» he murmured, hugging Dan with a soft _thank you_ , not missing his small sigh of relief.

«He’s high maintenance though, just so you know» the Aussie joked after a pause. «You gotta find a place where he can surf»

«I’ll try my best» replied Charles with a small laugh. 

Silence – inside his own head too, noticed Charles, Daniel somehow grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in days. In those moments, the Aussie leaving a kiss on his neck and hugging him tighter, Charles almost believed that he could be like him. Carefree, peaceful, joyous, _strong_ , in a different sense from the one people usually associated to him – a lighter, untroubled sense.

He felt like he wasn’t born for that.

«I was thinking about something. But I want you to be completely honest about it»

He raised his head to look at Dan.

«Would it help you to come and spend the rest of the holidays in Perth? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything», Daniel rushed to explain «I’m completely ok with staying here in Monaco – it’s just that you seem drained by this place right now. So if you think you could feel better away from here for a couple of weeks, we could go back to Australia. And if you prefer to stay here, we stay here – I’m not leaving you anyway»

Charles settled against the couch, the kangaroo still in his hands.

There was something terrifying about the idea of going to Australia. Dozens of thoughts rushed to his mind: it wasn’t his home, what if he felt ill, heck what if he felt ill _during the flight_ , caged on a damn plane with a panic attack mounting? And he didn’t know Daniel’s family, what if they didn’t like him? They surely didn’t like him already, he was a weirdo and their son had left Perth all of a sudden to rescue him, a stupid baby not able to stand on his legs, there was _no way_ they could like him. And he had to train – even if he felt so exhausted that he couldn’t even imagine getting up and going to the gym. He _had_ to, he had already lost two days because of his awful mood.

And yet Daniel was right – he _did_ feel drained by Monaco at the moment. By the picture-perfect landscape, by the impression that every single person walking those streets had some kind of expectation for him, for their by-plebiscite prince, their soon-to-be king. He loved Monaco, he really did – but he was tired.

He toyed with the bandana of the kangaroo he held in his hands, then stood up and slowly walked to the window, looking at the sturdy and dissonant profile of the city.

It was his home. And yet. 

The suffocating feeling he got from it was enough to decide.

In Daniel’s mind, the last two days were a blur of planes and worry and the imprint of Charles’ body against his own. He didn’t know how many hours he had spent travelling. The late afternoon sun was coming down outside the windows; less than twenty-four hours after having landed in Europe there he was, at the airport waiting for the flight to Australia.

He tiredly ran a hand through his hair, eyes burning from the lack of sleep, stomach lamenting the quantity of airport meals consumed in the last days. The queue at the coffee shop was slow; he glanced back to the table where Charles was sitting, backpack on his legs, phone in hand. Daniel was unable not to worry, checking on him in a way that probably wasn’t as subtle as he liked to believe. Charles seemed too lost in his head to notice, though.

He had asked countless times to the younger driver if he was completely sure about going to Australia. He had no intention to force him to do something he didn’t feel like doing, especially not now. Yet Charles seemed sure about it, even a bit livelier than before. And Daniel – Daniel only wanted to make him feel better. He hoped to god that he was doing the right thing, that some time away from his routine would help him breathe again. 

He greeted the lady at the counter and ordered two salmon bagels, hoping that Charles would manage to eat a bit before boarding. He had talked with Andrea again that afternoon, while Charles was taking a shower. The trainer had thought it was a good idea for them to go to Perth and had asked him to make sure Charles actually took it as a holiday from his almost-obsessive training; Daniel was sure they were going to need a long talk about it.

He took the bagels and said goodbye to the cashier, turning around from the counter.

He stopped. 

At the table, Charles had opened his backpack and was looking at something inside; the hood he had up didn’t hide the tender expression on his face. Daniel stopped and smiled; the kangaroo wasn’t a silly present after all.

Right there, he got the feeling that somehow, they were going to be ok.


	3. Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is so late that I can't even justify it - I'll use the length of this chapter as an excuse, and I hope it will be worth the wait. As usual, I love knowing what you think about the story, so if you want leave a comment or come and say hi to me on Tumblr, I'm @iammany. I don't bite, I've been told that I'm sweet and I can ramble for hours about how underrated Dan/Charles is as a pairing.  
> Shoutout to **honeybutter** , for her patience and support. <3

Australia was endless.

The highway ran through crammed industrial warehouses, but as soon as the hangars became less frequent, Charles could see the flat immensity that surrounded them, arid plains scorched by the sun shining in the clear sky.

He felt a shiver down his spine and blamed it to the car’s air conditioning system. He rolled down the sleeves of his grey hoodie, absent-mindedly biting his nails and trying to find comfort in the rumble of the engine.

He didn’t like being in the passenger seat.

Daniel’s hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, fingers accompanying it with ease, driving along the smooth tarmac he knew so well, slower cars disappearing in the rear-view mirror. Charles could see the dark circles under his eyes and the way the slouched posture betrayed his exhaustion, and yet there was an unconscious smile on his lips.

In Charles’ eyes, Dan always shone.

Since they had landed in Perth, he was shining even more.

The highway that would take them from the airport to Daniel’s family house lingered on the outskirts of Perth; squinting his eyes against the sun, Charles could see the profile of downtown skyscrapers. They drove past a road sign, the name of the suburb it bore just an unfamiliar combination of letters for him. He wondered what Daniel could read in it, what memories and feelings were linked to any of the neighbourhoods popping up on the margins of the highway.

He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, a guilty ache in his stomach thinking at the way him being his usual weak self he had completely disrupted the other man’s plans. It felt unreal that someone would care about him enough to travel to the other side of the world and back. Since Daniel had showed up on his door he had been transfixed by the thought, unable to fully process its meaning. The utter craziness of it and the weight it held came in sudden waves.

Charles felt unworthy of it all.

He hadn’t managed to sleep much on the plane, the long hours passing slowly, his muscles tense and his stomach knotted at the idea of his anxiety peaking right then, right there, on a crowded plane too many miles away from safe ground and an escape route.

He didn’t like flying.

Even while asleep Daniel hadn’t stopped keeping him close, an arm around his shoulders, chest rising and falling regularly as Charles snuggled into him and shut his eyes. His brain hadn’t stopped working, though, the feeling of being cornered in his window seat so strong that he had felt nauseous, the sheer impulsiveness of his breakaway from Monaco killing the breath in his lungs and making him feel as he was jumping into the void just outside of the plane.

He had hugged Daniel tighter and waited for it to pass.

Being in the car was better, the low sound of the engine so familiar that he could feel it rumble in his veins, the gear shift lulling him, yet his mind couldn’t stay still. He felt terror chasing him at the idea of meeting Daniel’s parents, kept wondering what they would think of him – _stupid question you idiot, their son had to come and rescue you on the other side of the world, of course they think you’re a weirdo_.

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

He would have given anything to never have to climb out of the car and just keep driving in circles, Daniel on his side, his strong hands on the wheel, hell he was even okay with _being on the passenger seat_ , as long as he didn’t have to face the world outside of that car.

He felt a hand taking his.

He opened his eyes and met Daniel’s.

He let him raise his hand and kiss it lightly. He turned and looked outside of the window, trying to hide his glassy eyes.

Daniel didn’t leave his hand.

«It’s gonna be ok, you’re not in danger»

«Your parents will hate me» he murmured, his voice barely holding up.

«Why would they ever hate you?»

Charles shook his head and took a shaky breath.

Daniel didn’t press him.

«I’m not leaving you for one second, Charles»

Charles held on those words as they exited the highway and drove through a quiet suburb, regularly distanced houses and clean sidewalks. After a while, the houses grew sparser and then got replaced by big farms and fields.

The road was smaller now, cutting in two the Australian bush. Daniel slowed down, as if he was taking in the landscape, breathing its own essence, the burnt ochre ground and the few trees and the heat that Charles could feel pressing against the rolled-up windows of the car.

For some seconds, he forgot about the chaos in his own head and felt the quiet homecoming of that never-seen land.

He rolled down the window, hot afternoon air coming in as they drove by, his eyes squinted in an unsuccessful attempt to see the end of the bush around them, sparsely dotted by houses and barns. He turned behind; the residential suburbs were not far, and the profile of the city was still visible on the horizon, but the rural sight around them seemed so different. He didn’t look at Dan, yet he knew he was smiling. He felt him speeding up, breeze invading the car and messing up his hair as he kept looking outside.

Suddenly he felt a tender bond linking him to that land, almost as if he had already seen it all, imprinted somewhere in the eyes of the man beside him, in the crook of his neck, in his never-tamed curls.

They left the main road for an unpaved one.

«Here we go» murmured Dan, as the road ended in an open space, two cars and a camper van already parked in there.

Daniel’s house was a big, traditional farm overlooking the fields; the elegant white wooden façade and the light grey sloping roof contrasted starkly with the warm tone of the ground.

An anxious lump in his throat, Charles got out of the car as Daniel took care of the luggage. He felt the sudden need to hide under his hood.

_Behave like a functional person, you idiot._

A couple of seconds later, Dan approached him. He closed his eyes as the other man left a kiss on his forehead and then took him in his arms, one hand slowly tracing circles on his back. He buried his nose in his boyfriend’s t-shirt. 

«They are waiting for us» he murmured, without giving any sign of moving.

«There’s no rush. We go in only when you feel ready»

They stayed like that for a while more, before Charles reluctantly distanced himself from Daniel.

«Let’s go»

Charles focused on the way Daniel’s hand took his, an unconscious ease in the gesture.

Grace Ricciardo was, in many ways, the mirrored image of her son: the same dark, unruly curls, the same infectious smile, the same openness in the way she hugged Charles as he had known him forever, letting him go only when her husband suggested to _let the boy breathe, Grace_.

«I’m just excited, Joe, it’s been a while since Daniel brought someone home» she laughed, with a teasing pat on her husband’s arm as he shook Charles’ hand.

«Understandable, if the first thing you do is to suffocate them» was the man’s reply.

«Guys, I have no words for you» commented Dan while hugging his parents, as the small group moved inside.

Charles didn’t have much time to observe the entrance, as the parents led them to the living room. It was a spacious room soaked in the sunlight coming from a big window overlooking the fields behind the house; a long couch and two armchairs were set in front of a big flat screen. A door opened on the patio and the backyard; Charles noticed a pool, just before Grace urged them to make themselves comfortable while she made coffee.

«I’ll show you the house in the meantime, okay?»

Charles nodded and followed Daniel, taking in the atmosphere.

The interiors of the house were an elegant combination of rustic white wood and airy rooms. The ground floor was occupied by the living room, the dining room and a big kitchen. Some mason jars and half sliced oranges were on the kitchen isle, the fruity aroma mixing with the coffee scent coming from the Italian espresso machine. In the entrance, a staircase led to the first floor.

Charles climbed the stairs as Dan gave him explanations about the framed pictures hanging on the wall, karting wins and family holidays and Sunday trips. He smiled at an eight years old Dan sitting beside his kart, wearing a white t-shirt with a Ferrari logo on it.

Sometimes he felt as they all shared the same memories, as all racing drivers had a collective past made of crowded karting races and parents waving from half-deserted grandstands and old team pictures and outgrown overalls somewhere in the basement.

«So, here is my parents’ room, and these are my and my sister’s old rooms… There’s not much left, I’ve taken most of my stuff to the outbuilding» Charles peeked inside, spotting some glittery trophies on a shelf, cardboard boxes on the bed and a remote-control car on the floor «… here’s the bathroom, the storage room and that’s it. Now down and outside, Peach»

Charles let himself being led downstairs, to the living room and then to the backyard.

Immensity, again.

It hit Charles somewhere in his lungs, his eyes struggling again to find reference points and a clear horizon. The sight was breath-taking, enclosed fields in the proximity of the house, and then the seemingly endless bush.

They were standing in the patio, a canopy protecting the outdoor table and the porch swing from the afternoon sun. In front of the house was a rectangular pool; on the right side of it stood a small outbuilding, clear wooden walls matching those of the main house, some dumbbells and a fitness mat left outside.

«I’ve moved to Europe early, and considering that I’m rarely home, and when I am it’s mostly to visit my family, I didn’t feel the need to actually find my own place, you know? I just come here and stay in the outbuilding, it makes sense and it gives me enough independence anyway» was explaining Daniel, while opening the door and showing him inside.

The outbuilding had a nice open space, the kitchen area on one side, the living room on the other. The furniture was rustic as in the rest of the house, yet Charles could distinctly see Daniel’s touch everywhere: the Texas flag hung on the wall, old helmets on a shelf, a warm orange fluffy carpet in front of the couch, fitness equipment left all over, in a mess that would have Andrea horrified. A short corridor led to the bathroom and the bedroom. The bedroom had a different atmosphere than the rest of the outbuilding and the main house; while every other room Charles has visited before seemed to be constantly invaded by sunlight, this last one felt darker and secluded, a quiet corner in a too-exposed world. From there, the landscape still visible outside of the window felt less scary.

He caught Daniel nervously looking at him, as if waiting for his final judgement.

«I love it» he murmured, as his boyfriend exhaled a relieved sigh and came closer, arms encircling him.

They stayed like that for a minute, before Daniel spoke.

«I’m sorry for my parents, they can be a bit too exuberant and pressuring»

«It’s fine, don’t worry»

«Are you sure? If you don’t feel like it, we can just stay here, I can go tell them an-»

«Dan, it’s fine»

As they came back to the main house, the strong scent of coffee filling the living room, Charles was feeling anxiety tugging at his guts and exhaustion creeping on him. Yet, there was something in the presence of Daniel that precariously kept him balanced.

He held his hand tighter.

Mornings were hard.

Charles was used to it; to that brief moment of blissful unconsciousness, right as he woke up – and then the usual sense of doom crashing onto him, pushing him into the mattress.

Mornings were hard – on any side of the world.

The bedroom wasn’t a quiet and dim cocoon as it had looked the afternoon before. The morning light filled it with an almost violent force – Charles could feel the aggressive rays on his skin, the thin sheet as the only protection.

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned to face the wall, his face half-hidden into the pillow.

The sound of the shower felt distant and at the same time had an uncomfortable urgency, as if Daniel would come any second now and ask him for an explanation he couldn’t give.

_Why can’t you just get up?_

He took a shaky breath. He had woken up one minute ago, and his brain was already restless.

He felt as if he moved, the pain would become unbearable.

So he stayed still, childishly hoping that this way he would just disappear, an echo of something that never happened.

The sound of the shower stopped.

Charles wondered what time it was and felt guilt gnawing at his brain as he calculated how many hours, _days_ had passed since his last training. He didn’t need to check his schedule, he knew what he was supposed to do – he knew what he hadn’t been doing since apathy had overpowered him.

In the last three days many things had happened, and there he was on the other side of the world – still, his head felt the same. It would never stop, he could never escape.

That knowledge made him feel as if he was suffocating.

«Good morning, babe»

Daniel was there, all wet curls and big smile.

Charles mouthed a _good morning_ , feeling pathetic when his voice didn’t leave his lips.

There was so much he had to explain, so much he wanted to explain – and yet he felt as if the light would choke him.

There was a worried shade in Daniel’s eyes, and Charles knew his first instinct would be to join him in bed and hug him tight, yet he couldn’t _bear_ proximity, couldn’t bear affection in that moment.

«Is it okay if I stay in bed a bit more?»

This time his voice didn’t fail him, and Daniel smiled.

Charles wondered how on earth he was supposed to _deserve_ him.

«Of course it’s okay. There’s no rush. I’ll be in there, if you need me» the Australian answered, hinting at the outbuilding’s open space.

Charles forced a little smile.

_There’s no rush._

It felt relieving and scary at the same time.

As he heard Daniel moving in the other room, he closed his eyes again and hid his face in the pillow.

He stayed perfectly still, keeping the noise in his head on the threshold between bearable and unbearable, waiting for it to flow away.

One hour later, he felt steady enough to get up and venture outside of the bedroom.

The smile welcoming him felt warmer than the sun shining outside. Daniel was sitting at the kitchen counter, a big mug of coffee in his hands, an open magazine in front of him.

He had clearly been waiting for him to eat breakfast, and among all guilt Charles felt something tender.

He sat on a stool beside Daniel and let himself being dragged into a hug. The Australian kissed his forehead and Charles settled between his arms.

«Better?»

«Yeah. Sorry, sometimes I just-»

_Feel as if getting out of the bed is too big of a task_

He didn’t manage to say it out loud.

Daniel nodded and hugged him tighter, without asking for more.

_He deserves so much more than this crappy explanation_

«So, it’s breakfast time. Coffee? Decaf? What do you wanna eat? I think I have some yoghurts in here»

Charles settled for a decaf; caffeine didn’t seem a good choice at the moment. As Daniel put the mug and a Greek yoghurt in front of him, he silently wondered if the Aussie had called home before their arrival and sent his mother doing grocery shopping for them.

The yoghurt was dense as he dug the spoon into it. He wasn’t hungry – he felt nauseous at the idea of eating, but Daniel was looking at him and he didn’t want to worry him even more. He had already done it enough and it wasn’t even 11 am.

He tried to ignore the voice reminding him that he wasn’t burning the calories he ingested.

«I should train»

It took some seconds for Charles to realise he had said it out loud.

Dan stared at him.

«I think you need to rest and relax a bit, first of all» he said then, taking his hand.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment.

He didn’t feel like training, yet he felt shit because he wasn’t doing it.

«What about going for a walk?»

_Walking is not enough, walking is slacking_

«I can show you the surroundings, and you can meet the sheep»

Charles opened his eyes and stared at Dan.

«The sheep?»

«Yep. They would be glad to get to know you. I’ve been talking lots about you to them»

He couldn’t stop a laugh at the Aussie’s words.

«You talked about me to your sheep?»

«I did»

A small smile, the first of the day. There was an affectionate shade in Daniel’s playful eyes.

_A walk it is, then._

The ochre dirt stained Charles’ white trainers as they walked across the land.

It felt strangely satisfying.

The sun was high on their heads, shortening the shadows of the sparse trees dotting the landscape here and there. Charles looked around. In the distance he could spot the few other houses he had seen the day before as they arrived, yet they seemed so far away, the fields around Daniel’s farm spreading endlessly.

That immensity still unsettled him.

He tightened his grip on the Aussie’s hand.

«See, there they are» said Daniel suddenly, pointing at something. Charles squinted his eyes: a couple hundreds of meters in front of them, the flock was a white shape on the grass.

«Sheep, this is Charles; Charles, these are the sheep» he said pompously when they came closer, and the younger driver couldn’t repress a laugh at his childish excitement.

The sheep were more than fifty, most of them seemingly not affected by the two humans that had joined them. From the way Daniel was looking at them, eyes scanning the entire flock, Charles realised he probably knew them all. Then the Aussie’s eyes lightened suddenly.

«That’s my favourite one. For some reason it is tamer than the rest of the flock» he exclaimed, dragging him towards a sheep standing and munching among some others. Charles looked as Daniel delicately patted the sheep on the head.

«How…» he started, trying to find the words. Somehow he felt Daniel could be very defensive of the animals in front of them. «… I mean, how do you distinguish them? They look kinda… you know, all similar» he babbled. As he spoke, he couldn’t help to feel stupidly mean, a spoiled child unable to understand the nature that surrounded him.

«They are not all similar, babe» protested Dan, before jokingly covering the ears of his _favourite_ sheep. «Don’t listen to him, honey, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about»

Charles laughed, an eyebrow arched in confusion, and yet he suddenly felt a rush of affection for the animal.

He jumped as the sheep moved its head, much to the hilarity of Daniel.

«You can touch it»

«Doesn’t it… bite or anything?»

Dan’s laugh, again. Too warm and full for Charles to even _think_ about pouting.

«Oh right, I forgot you’re a Monaco boy. Come here, Peach»

Still unsure about it, Charles let Daniel take his hand and put it on the sheep’s coat. The woolly fur felt a curious mixture of soft and rough under Charles’ fingers. He petted it cautiously, as Daniel spoke.

«When I was about eight years old, my grandfather gave me a small motorcycle for Christmas. And I would spend hours driving it around the fields, usually scaring the sheep away – until one day my father got so furious that he actually confiscated the motorcycle» the Aussie laughed at the memory. «He gave it back to me only because I spent the following week sulking in my room, and I had to promise to never again scare the animals away by driving among them»

Charles shook his head with a smile. «So I gather you have always been as annoying as you are now»

Dan playfully punched him on the shoulder. «I had gotten the racing bug, not my fault» he retorted.

The younger one smiled, staying silent for a while before speaking. «When I was a child, I had a baby car. My father had put some stickers on it to make it look like Senna’s car. I used to drive it around the apartment, and every time we visited my grandparents, I would insist on taking the car with us, because they had a big garden. I would spend hours just driving around the garden, my family was baffled because I never got bored of it. Then once I drove it straight into the pool. I remember being more worried about my car than about myself. Somewhere there’s still a picture of me completely soaked, fussing over my car.»

Daniel had a way to look at him every time he spoke; as if his attention was one hundred percent on him, as if his words were the most important thing going on in the world. Charles felt his throat close.

It was the first time in days that he spoke that much and that freely.

«I really wanna see that picture and that baby car, now» Dan told him, and Charles just smiled as he kept playing with the sheep’s coat.

The sun was high, shining in an uncomfortable way over their head – yet he didn’t want to move, nor to head back to the farm.

Maybe it was the open, deserted landscape that surrounded them, or maybe the quiet silence that had fallen between them, but after a while Charles felt the words surfacing on his lips.

«I feel like every time I’m not racing or busying myself with something, I stop functioning» he whispered, eyes fixed on the sheep in front of them. «I’m just – I’m trying so hard to keep everything at bay, and yet I fail all the time. I don’t think my life can go right anymore»

It was a thought that had been looming in his head for a long time, and putting it into words for the first time physically hurt.

He felt his lungs contracting as his boyfriend hugged him. The sadness was thick in the hot hair around them, so thick Charles almost felt he could grab it.

He wished he could just eradicate all the bad thoughts and the debris in his head. 

A long time passed before Daniel spoke.

«I’m not gonna tell you cheesy meaningless stuff like _it gets better_ or similar, but Charles: we can work on it. On all the things that are not going right»

That _we_ lingered in the air, its meaning unsaid and yet so clear.

«I want to be with _you_ , not only with how you are on your good days, when you are happy and crush us all on track. I want you on the bad days too. I know it’s hard for you and I don’t ask you to just open up like it’s no big deal, but please don’t keep me out. And most of all, do not believe for one second that I want to be kept out from your worst days. Because I don’t.»

Hidden against Daniel’s shoulder, Charles’ first instinct was to apologize. For the mess he was, for not deserving all that affection and all that faith. He struggled to understand what Daniel liked in him on the good days, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he could offer the Aussie on his bad days.

Yet, there was a promise of warmth and stability in those words.

Charles just allowed himself to believe.

They stayed like that a bit more, then he wiped his cheeks.

The sun was almost too hot, yet it wasn’t time to go back to the farm yet.

They could walk for a bit more.

The sunset painted the landscape in a deep orange, as Daniel crossed the backyard from the outbuilding to the main house. The surface of the pool reverberated in the light, and he felt his thoughts slowing down. It was always like that: no matter how heavy and pressing his worries were, when he was at home, under the darkening sky of the warm nights, everything seemed to move slower.

Charles was taking a shower and later he planned to call Pierre; Daniel had left him in the outbuilding, feeling that the Monegasque needed some alone time to recollect his thoughts.

Their first day together in Australia had been busy in an uneventful way. _Nothing_ had happened, and Daniel was glad of that. And yet they had spent hours walking around in the bush, swinging from countless words to long silences, their hands linked most of the times, their bodies never too far away in the immensity of the fields.

Daniel jogged up the few steps leading from the backyard to the patio and opened the door. He quickly heard his parents’ voices coming from the kitchen and he joined them; his father was cutting some vegetables and his mother was filling a pot with water. She ruffled his hair and handed him some carrots and a peeler.

«Go and help your father»

«Yes sir» he joked, as he sat at the table and started peeling the vegetables.

«So, how is Charles?»

Daniel sighed at his mother’s question, and realised that he didn’t know how to answer.

It’s not that he didn’t know how Charles was. He wasn’t ok, and Daniel was painfully aware of it. Yet, he knew his mother was asking for a more detailed answer; he could still hear all of his boyfriend’s words and all of his silences, and he didn’t know how to explain, how to sum it up.

«I don’t know» he sighed, after a long silence.

He raised his head and noticed the warmth and worry in his parents’ eyes. He couldn’t help to be slightly surprised; even if they were as affectionate as him, he wasn’t expecting to see them so taken up by Charles after having known him for barely a day.

 _Well_ , he reconsidered, thinking about the boyfriend in question. Maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all.

So he just started talking. About how sadness was eating Charles alive, and about the way he could see him try and fight through it, because Charles couldn’t avoid fighting, it was in his veins. About how this fight had backfired, about the almost self-destructive obsession with training and dieting. About his own worry, about the guilt of _not having noticed before_ , because Charles could fool the media with his best pr-smile and the quiet and serene attitude of someone who walked through hell and came out on the other side, but Daniel was his boyfriend, he shouldn’t have believed him.

«So yeah, I know you mean well and everything, but please don’t pressure him too much when it comes to talking and eating and being cheerful. It’s just hard for him, right now» he concluded.

They both nodded, clearly understanding the situation.

«I don’t even know if I’ve done the right thing, by taking him here. I just thought it could help him to stay away from Monaco for a while, but I’m – I don’t know what I’m doing» he sighed.

«I think the most important thing for him right now is to be with you» his mother said after a long silence.

«Yes, but-» Daniel stopped, frustrated by how difficult it was to articulate his thoughts. «I don’t think I’m enough, I don’t know how to make him feel better, I’d like to just get into his head and make things right but I can’t» he explained, with a vague gesture of his hands.

«You can’t» agreed his father, the serious tone so unusual for him. «But you can be there as does it himself»

Daniel sighed, knowing that as much as it could be unnerving and frustrating, _being there_ was the only thing he could do.

«It’s a lot, son» said his father, as he could read his mind. «Being at his side is no small task. It can make all the difference.»

He nodded, unconsciously looking at the outbuilding outside the window and feeling that _not leaving Charles’ side_ was the most important and precious task he’d ever had.

A buzz against his thigh distracted him. Daniel took his phone out of the pocket and checked Whatsapp.

_Marcus, 18.47 Dan, check the group chat once in a while!!! You still on for tomorrow right??_

«Fuck»

Daniel ignored the scolding stare of his parents. His brain took long seconds to piece together the information. At some point in the whirlwind of time zones and flights and jet lag mixed with worry, he had lost track of time. He sat silent as he realised that the following day was indeed December 31st, and that his group of friends had been organizing a New Year’s Eve barbecue on the beach for weeks.

The planning of the party, the endless discussions about who had to bring what, felt like faded memories of ages ago.

 _Fuck_ , he repeated in his mind.

There was no way Charles was going to feel comfortable in such a social situation, right now.

Daniel contemplated the idea of cancelling the plans and not telling him anything, but Charles would never believe that his group of friends hadn’t organized a New Year’s Eve party.

He sighed, leaning against the chair, the phone still in one hand, the peeler in the other.

He caught a movement in the corner of his eye, and saw Charles closing the door of the outbuilding and looking hesitantly at the main house. He knew that he still hadn’t gotten used to the surroundings and that he would feel anxious at the thought of coming in, wondering if he had to knock or to wait outside. He stood up and got out, meeting him in the backyard and noticing how relieved Charles seemed.

They came back to the house and set the table on the patio as Daniel’s parents finished cooking. The dinner flowed in a quiet and serene atmosphere. Charles didn’t speak much as he picked at his salad, but he seemed to progressively relax as the light chatting filled the evening.

It was a small victory, and Daniel smiled, but still he couldn’t stop thinking about the following day.

As they stood up and helped clean the table, he took Charles aside.

«Ok, I have to tell you something, but I want you to be very honest about it with me» he started, damning himself as he saw that his words had already startled the younger driver. He hurried to speak again.

«Weeks ago, me and the guys had planned a barbecue on the beach for tomorrow night. Now, I had completely forgot about it until Marcus texted me today, and I really don’t care about going or anything, I just want for us to do what you feel comfortable with»

He realised that he was babbling and shut his mouth, waiting as Charles avoided his eyes.

«We should go» he said after a while.

Daniel was taken aback, so Charles continued. «Really, I don’t want you not to see your friends because of me, and I’m ok with going»

«Are you sure?»

«Yeah. _Really_ , Dan. Don’t worry»

He looked at his boyfriend’s face, trying to find any trace of discomfort, getting in return only the quiet smile he had learn to know and not to believe.

«Charles, I am serious, you know I don’t want to force you to do anything, and I can see them another time, I’ve seen them enough anyw-»

«Dan. It’s fine. Believe me»

The tone in Charles’ voice had a conclusive vein. Daniel sighed, feeling that it wasn’t going to be as easy as Charles made it look.

A heavy weight had settled in Charles’ stomach, as soon as the engine had started and the car had driven out of the driveway. For the first time since his arrival, Daniel’s house felt a safe harbour for him as it grew smaller in the rear-view mirror.

He looked outside and squinted his eyes, searching somewhere along the horizon for an ocean he still couldn’t see.

The prospect of the New Year’s Eve party felt flat out terrifying. The night before, trying not to toss around too much while Daniel was already sleeping soundly, he had kept playing in his head all the possible scenarios, his thoughts obsessively getting stuck on the details that made him more anxious. He could see all those people he didn’t know chatting and having fun around him, and he knew that as _Dan’s new boyfriend_ he was going to be scrutinized, right when he felt less able to look sane. For a choking second, he had wondered how he would rank with Daniel’s past boyfriends.

_P20, you idiot. Surely the others at least weren’t crazy._

He had laid on his stomach, face against the pillow, trying to repress the wave of jealousy and inadequacy that threatened to drown him.

He would have to eat in front of all those people, he would worry Daniel and would prevent him from enjoying the party as he deserved.

There in the car, his head replayed all the worst-case scenarios for the umpteenth time.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep those thoughts at bay.

«Charles, are you sure you wanna go?» Daniel’s voice took him back to the present moment. «Seriously, I don’t need a big party or anything, we can just chill at home or go for a walk»

« I’m ok with going. _Really_ » he added, seeing that the older wasn’t convinced.

«I don’t want you to feel pressured»

«I’m not feeling pressured, it’s fine»

For a split second, Charles hated with all his might how _good_ he was at faking it.

Finally, the ocean came in full view, the surface shining under the late afternoon sun and managing to calm Charles at least a bit. It was an unknown sea, the profile of the coast foreign to him, yet he could find something familiar in the shade of the beaches, in the waves lapping against the rocks.

He bit his nails as they parked on the side of the road. He was about to open the car door, when Daniel stopped him mid-track.

One hand under his chin, the other massaging his nape, he looked at him with a serious look in his eyes, and Charles knew he hadn’t fooled him.

«If you feel bad, you tell me and we leave. Okay?»

He nodded. Daniel’s kiss felt too short, and Charles found himself getting out of the car and helping the other man carrying the groceries, as they stumbled along the short path to the secluded beach.

Daniel’s group of friends was a happy and chaotic gathering of people who seemed to have known each other for a lifetime. Judging from the tousled and still humid hair, some of them had been at the beach for the whole afternoon. Charles recognized some faces from past Instagram stories. Scotty bounced around the barbecue grill in his bermuda shorts and baseball cap, trying to help the people who were starting to grill meat but ending up being useless. Marcus was calmer, a soft nuance in his eyes as he shook Charles’ hand and patted Daniel on the shoulder, taking the groceries from their arms. Charles couldn’t help a relieved sigh when he met Michael’s eyes, the trainer a known and calming presence in the muddle of new people.

He smiled as he was introduced to everyone. Everyone seemed so nice and relaxed, and he felt so out of place, standing there with a false smile on his face, in his black skinny jeans and white polo t-shirt.

«Here, guys» Marcus came back and handed him, Daniel and Michael a bottle of beer each.

As Michael joked about Marcus giving him another round as soon as he saw him empty-handed, Charles hesitated, his brain not missing a beat and reminding him how many calories and carbs were in beer. 

He took the bottle Marcus was offering him with a forced smile and felt Daniel’s hand on his back.

For a split second, he caught Michael looking at him intensely, before drinking a long sip and laughing at something Marcus was saying.

He tried to tell himself that if a personal trainer could drink without guilt for one night, he could do it too, yet the obsessive part of his brain didn’t seem to agree.

He looked at the beer, noticing it was from Daniel’s brewery. Trying to force the guilt down his throat and repeating himself that it was going to be his only beer of the night, he took a small sip. 

Daniel, Michael and Marcus were talking around him. Daniel’s hand was still on his back.

He played with the bottle neck, using it more as a fidget tool than as a bottle to drink from, and reflected on how things have changed. On a similar night four or five years before, he would have been more than tipsy at that point, well over the third beer on an empty stomach.

He wondered if he was healthier back then.

He wondered if he had ever been healthy, of if the last five years had been a chaotic mess of bad coping mechanisms and insane perfectionist tendencies.

As the party continued, Daniel didn’t leave him for a minute. While slowly eating a plate of grilled vegetables, Charles noticed how Michael seemed keen on spending most of his time around him too.

«So, how is Andrea?» he was asking.

Charles felt a stab of pain at the thought of his trainer. He hadn’t spoken with him for days now, an unusual fact for them; and he couldn’t deny that it was all his fault. The Italian had called him several times, before resorting to text messages, yet Charles hadn’t answered.

«He’s fine» he forced out. «He’s in Italy with his family for the holidays, right now»

He wondered if Michael knew something about his recent issues – he probably did, considering that Daniel had flown to and from Europe for him. He felt ashamed at the idea of him knowing how pathetic his mind was, and yet having his familiar face around felt reassuring.

With a bittersweet aftertaste, he realised he reminded him of Andrea.

The orange sunset dissolved into a dark blue, as the lights along the coast lit up. Someone had taken out a guitar and was playing among the chatting; these sounds smashed against the waves in the night. Charles put on Daniel’s hoodie, shivering in the sea breeze and absent-mindedly chewing on the sleeve hem.

It all felt too distant – and then suddenly too close.

The voices, the Jason Mraz song someone was strumming on the guitar, the smell of grilled meat still persisting even if they had eaten two hours before, Scotty announcing that _it’s almost time guys, half an hour to midnight._

Daniel was busy talking to someone whose name Charles couldn’t remember, so he stood up with his half-empty beer and silently walked away from the sensory overload of the gathering.

Unsurprisingly, no one noticed.

At night, sea, sky and sand seemed to melt into an undiscernible black texture. Charles had always loved sitting on the beach in the dark, and he would do it often back in Monaco – it always felt like an almost otherworldly refuge, a hidden spot away from the swing of time.

There, he didn’t feel forced to be _alive_ – he could just _be_.

He sat down, the party just a background noise choked by the waves.

He started peeling off the label from his bottle and shredding it into small pieces, looking as they fell on the sand and then got carried away by the wind.

«Hey»

The whisper was almost inaudible, as Daniel came and sat beside him, immediately pulling him into a hug.

Charles closed his eyes as he felt his boyfriend’s lips on his hair.

«Are you okay?»

He wondered what Daniel meant – if he was talking about that exact moment, or maybe that day, or that week, or that whole month.

For once, he stubbornly defeated his inner ability to _lie_ and repressed the reassurance already on his lips.

He just shrugged.

Some of the label bits were still close to his shoes, quivering as the wind swept them up.

The noise from the party grew louder, as the countdown begun. Just as midnight came, fireworks coloured the sky above the coast, covering the cheering of people.

Charles felt Daniel kissing his temple and then hugging him tighter. His eyes didn’t leave the red fireworks blazing in front of them and reflecting on the black sea.

His sadness felt heavy – so heavy that the rest was just nothingness, a weak trace lost in the dark.

Still, he could feel Daniel’s heartbeat, and the solid profile of his body.

He held his hand and felt the Australian leaving another kiss on his hair, as fireworks kept dancing in front of them.


End file.
